Best Poem of Odile Kennel

Going to Pasárgada
looking out of the window, reassuring yourself
that you exist, because the world
outside exists. Inside
there are books, perhaps the thought
of a child you never had,
a bed, a typewriter.
A telephone that rings, evidence
in its turn of world, sounds, electric
signals. Then out, walking
through . . .
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Thinking sage and you
I think sage when I see
sage, think grey-green hoary leaves
growing in pairs, sharp or spicy,
the flowers labiate,
Or I don't think at all, neither sage
nor plant nor scent since with too much
thinking the sage flourishes at my window
but dwindles in my head
exists then for me no more but
exists . . .
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